May 25, 2009

I never knew. It isn't even actually a recipe, but it turns out to be a specific process called "Fromage Fort", traditional and French. I've been making this multi-purpose cheesy thing for some time, and now I have a name for it-thanks to Jacques Pepin. His great big coffee table book,Traditions and Rituals of a Cook, is not only very pretty, but actually full of good information, recipes, and engaging stories.

M. Pepin's father's process for this appetizer/condiment/supper dish is more picturesque than my own. When J. Pepin was a child, his family did not have a fridge. Perishable food was stored in a "Garde Manger", which, chez Pepin, was essentially a wooden box, kept in the coolest possible spot. The dried out ends of cheeses accumulated there, along with everything else that had to be chilled.

When the urge struck him, Pepin Sr. would sort out the odd bits of leftover cheese of all sorts, and trim off any moldy spots. He cut it all up into a covered container, ladled some hot soup over it, and left it for days to soften. Once it was softened, he'd mash it all up with a little wine and some garlic, pack it into a crock, and it was ready to go- as a topping with crackers, baked in little mini-crocks for a first course, or spread on baguette slices and toasted. You can make a toasted panini thing, layering it with ham between two slices, and cooking it with a press, possibly dipping the sandwich in beaten egg before toasting, for extra fanciness.I especially like to munch my version, plain, with radishes.

I would be far too cowardly for this original method, which, though perhaps more flavorful than the modern version, fills my brain, however unjustly, with images of festering, possibly deadly itty bitty organisms. I note that Pepin Jr. and his wife currently use a food processor, which is also my weapon of choice. This eliminates the necessity for prolonged stewing.

Basically all you have to do is put your assorted leftover cheese bits*- hard and soft, in a food processor with some chopped garlic cloves- a little pepper and a bit of dijon mustard if you like, and process it with enough dry white wine to make a thick paste. The amount of wine you need will vary, depending on the ratio of hard to soft cheese. Pack it in a crock or two, and refrigerate for a day or so to let the flavors settle , and then you are set to go.

You can freeze this stuff, and it keeps quite well in the fridge, too. Toasted, baked, or just spread on a bit of crusty bread, it's a nice thing to have around. And, you know,it's making something out of nothing. Waste Not, Want Not.

Not really a recipe, as you can see. And it is very likely that you have already made something similar. This is the sort of thing that I like to be told about myself, just ordinary kitchen sense really. We can happen upon these ideas from just hanging around a kitchen, or read about them. A friend can tell us something nice that they do with their leftovers, and especially if is simple, it might be of lasting use. I like these sorts of ideas even better than the best of special recipes. Not that there is anything wrong with the latter.

*I would not include an actual parmesan rind, as these are too valuable to be lost in the mix-one dried out parm rind adds so much pizazzz to a pot of minestrone or potato soup.

May 17, 2008

So I'm giving this virtual party, and I hope some of you will come. There's a door prize- a copy of a nice new book about Terrines, which will be awarded, in random,picked-out-of-the-proverbial-hat fashion (for who am I to judge?), to someone who submits his or her terrine recipe and photo by the deadline: June first. You can do this by sending me a permalink to your post, or if you do not have a blog, you can email me your photo and recipe. These should go to lindystoast at gmail dot com.

Shortly thereafter, I will do a roundup of the submissions, and post it, with links. Terrines submitted after the deadline will be included in the roundup, which I will continue to update. It's just that if you are late, you will miss the drawing. I will announce and email the winner, who can send me the address for mailing. It is a very cool book. It was the inspiration for the following recipe, which I think makes a good, adaptable template for a tasty vegetarian, starter kind of terrine.

There seems to be some thought that this is a topic for pros, and that terrines and pates are inherently fussy and difficult. Not so. A meatloaf is a pate or terrine, and so is chopped liver. I was going to save my own terrine, and its easy recipe for the roundup, but I'm going to post it now, so you can see just how untricky this can be. If you want to make something elaborate, please do, of course, but this is not meant to be esoteric! I'm hoping to collect a real mix of ideas for making in my own new little porcelain terrine.

I think this one makes a good first course, because it is tasty, but not too filling, and can be made ahead, early the same day, or even the day before, and kept in the fridge. It could even make a very acceptable healthy/diet sort of thing, if you make it with milk, rather than cream. That is how the one in the photo was made, and it did not taste like imitation food, as lowfat recipes so often do. It is very general recipe, adaptable to your container size, and the vegetables you may have around. Go for nice color and flavor combinations, of course.

Here is how you make it:

Line a terrine or loaf pan with plastic wrap, allowing it to hand over the long sides. Butter the short sides. Preheat oven to 350F. Steam or simmer your veg until firm tender. I used asparagus, scallions, zucchini, peas and carrots. Cut the larger vegetables into matchsticks, not too small. Beat together 4 eggs and 1 1/4 cups of milk or cream (or proportional amounts to fit your container), salt, pepper and some fresh tarragon leaves if you have them, with a grating of fresh nutmeg.

Pour a bit in the bottom of the lined container to make a thin base layer. Add a layer of veg, then some more egg mixture, etc., until you have come nearly to the top. It will all get jumbled, don't worry, just have the matchsticks of each separate veg face the same way. Wrap the cling film over the top. If your vessel of choice has a lid, put it on. Set in a roasting pan, or the like, in your oven, and pour boiling water into the larger pan, until it is halfway up the sides of the smaller. Mine took 40 minutes in my little white terrine. The tip of a knife inserted in the middle should come clean when it's done.

Cool, and carefully unfold the plastic wrap covering the top. Use the plastic wrap to remove the terrine from the baking pan. As you can see, it slices very nicely with a sharp knife.

May 04, 2008

If you do not live in California or some such all-season growing area, chances are you are still waiting for your local produce to show up. One of the very earliest local goodies to appear around here is spinach. Like that salt-of-the-earth old salt , Popeye, I just loves my spinach.* And the tender baby leaves are so delicious uncooked, that a spinach salad is the first thing that comes to mind when it arrives. I have an old favorite, but I decided to try a couple of new things this year.

One is a spinach and pear salad using the rest of my duck confit. (I haven't forgotten about the duck breasts and the duck soup I promised. Consider this post a semi-related interlude.) The other is an idea I got from reading Karin Welzel's article in the Tribune Review**, about Cafe Zao, a local restaurant I have yet to visit-despite the fact that it is located only a couple of blocks from my workplace, and next door to the Public Theater. As you might guess, this has been mostly a cost issue.

After reading about the place, I've concluded that I need to save up for dinner at Cafe Zao. In the interim, though, I thought would try Chef Toni Pais' recipe for Cold Spinach Soup and Shellfish Salad, which you can find with Karin's article. I was so very not disappointed. Wow. As she points out, the soup can also be used, hot or cold, as a sauce for fish or poultry. Surprisingly, large quantities of pine nuts are involved, and the effect is brilliant. It's so intense, and fresh tasting- really amazing stuff. The seafood salad is also pretty special, and I found that it was well worth looking for the ponzu- a citrus-y vinegar.
It did take me some time to find it- the Lotus Market here is enormous- and not all the sauces have English labels. The ponzu didn't have one, but there was an ingredients list on the back, and it said "Ponzu" on top.

I made the soup according to instructions, but my seafood salad was a shrimp-only affair. Also, I did not do the fancy business with the PVC pipe rings, but put the shrimp salad in a little dish centered in the soup bowl instead. Another serving option might be an ice-cream scoop of the salad in the center of your dish, and the cold soup poured carefully around it. That's how I plate up rice with an estoufee or gumbo, and it works pretty well.

Here is the recipe for the spinach salad. I used toasted walnuts, as well as substituting the confit for the bacon. It was yummy.

I have an attraction to dark green vegetables that is so intense that I suspect it is based in some nutritional deficiency. I made a special bus trip to Whole Foods for dinosaur kale on a snowy day this winter, only to discover they were out of it. I nearly cried. Surely this is not normal? I can tell you that the produce guy looked at me with something between pity and fear when I, uh, ...expressed my dismay.

BTW, if you use the google search function in the left hand column, and search the blog for "spinach", there are few other nice things you might want to try.

____________________

*I was surprised to discover, reading up on the original Popeye comics, that in the days before animation, our man Popeye did not have a spinach habit at all. He was just, well, cranky and violent and not-so-brilliant- in the nicest possible way, of course. He had a generous heart and was always, naturally, devoted to the lovely Ms. Oyl. I highly recommend these early cartoons, they are fascinatin', as he might put it. If he, say, had a blog. Or could read and write. Or was, you know, real. But, as always, I digress.

**I don't subscribe to, the Tribune Review, one of our two local papers. Thus, I was unaware of its really nice food section, which, fortunately for me, can be read on the internet. I met Karin Welzel when she emailed me to talk about peas, and I've been catching up on past articles ever since.

April 17, 2008

I have an interesting new book all about terrines, and I'm very excited to make some more. You see above a variant I made up myself,..I think it is going to be a fair template for all sorts of vegetable terrines with various flavor combinations. It is light-ish , and makes a pretty good starter, since it doesn't fill you up, but whets the appetite.

I thought that it would be nice to collect some more recipes, so I 'm going to have a little kind-of contest/event here. It has been my experience that I need some sort of occasion or prompting to try things of this sort- but I generally get quite a kick out of my efforts when I do. I hope you will too.

I bought a second copy of the book, which will be given to a randomly selected (names in hat) entrant. You need not be a blogger to participate. If you email me a photo of your own terrine creation (original or attributed), and your recipe, I will post it.

If you've a blog, just send the permalink. If you do either by June 1, you will be eligible for the drawing, and I will do a roundup shortly thereafter, so we can all enjoy and try out each others ideas. I'll post my vegetable terrine template recipe with the others. Please feel free to offer any sort, vegetable, meats, poultry, game, desserts, fruits; all will be appreciated. Any vessel will do as well- I'm looking forward to both original ideas and some classic pates.

The little porcelain terrine you see below came home with me from the Steamer Trading Cookshop in Brighton. I have the dangerous habit of buying fragile objects while traveling, which I them must carry home on my lap, because they can't be safely packed in my luggage.

By my usual standards (giant decorative plates and immense jars, set of tea glasses, etc.) it was a sensible buy- fitting, as it did, in my tote bag, neatly bubble wrapped. In fact, I bought it in part because I felt it was a level-headed purchase. I've been wanting one for some time, so I knew what they cost, and it was the only thing I'd seen in two weeks which was marginally less expensive there than here. (I do have the nice old le creuset flame terrine which belonged to my mother, but it is quite big- only really appropriate for a major project. The new one is small and less daunting. Also, very cute.)

Pretty much everything else on offer looked fine until I reminded myself that merchandise was marked in pounds, not dollars, so that, basically, it was all twice as costly as seemed reasonable. At any rate, I have this nice memento of my trip, and I'm all set to try out a few ideas for terrines and pates. All of you Brits and Europeans should absolutely come to visit , very soon. Bring empty suitcases so you can shop and stuff them full while the dollar flounders and flops. Come on, your savings will pay your plane fare...I'm not kidding.

And do think about making a pate or terrine for our collection.

Addendum: Once again I am convinced that some things are just sort of in the air: The New York Times has a story in the Sunday Magazine section (4/27/08) about terrines, and about this very book, which was written by the French chef, Stephane Reynaud. The NYT article includes two interesting terrine recipes.

Another Addendum: Here's a recipe for the pictured terrine. Do join us, please.

March 02, 2008

I couldn't ask more from a holiday. Two weeks visiting family/friends in Sussex in an early spring, with a two day London excursion in the middle. It was a perfect balance of visiting, relaxing, and entertaining escapades. The weather was ridiculously good-there were daffodils, and blossoming trees, and I am nonetheless even sort of glad to be home. Eventually, I will tell you all about it.

At the moment, however, I am beat. It was only a 20 hour trip, door-to-door , with no glitches or holdups beyond a not too awful delay on the A23 enroute to Gatwick, caused by a dramatically overturned crane. But it has more or less done me in. And in a way it would not have done when I was a Young Thing, I'm forced to admit. A day later, and I'm still falling asleep at the drop of a hat.

So here is what I have for you today, along with a couple of pictures of visiting friends on a houseboat, in a very attractive little community of houseboats on the river in Shoreham. This is a recipe for an surprising (to me) delicious and versatile lentil-walnut loaf, which my cousin and I made as part of a dinner party for vegetarian guests. I was surprised, because I'd never made a lentil loaf before, and thought it sounded pretty dull, and more improving, or therapeutic, than delicious. I was not encouraged by the source- a rationing era cookbook with the non-enticing title of "Beans". Shows what I know.

We had our loaf with an onion gravy (variant recipe below) and "roasties" (an assortment of roasted potatoes and root vegetables), baby yorkshire puddings (more onion gravy), and a salad. It was all pretty much devoured, but the few loaf leftovers were delicious cold, in sandwiches. I think they would also make a nice starter- served like a pate, with some crusty bread and a couple of gherkins, or some other sort of pickled things.

Preheat oven to 350F. Butter a loaf pan and line it with foil, lengthwise, with the foil extending past the two short ends. Butter the foil. Heat the oil and cook the onion and garlic until just beginning to change color. Combine with all the other ingredients in a big bowl. Pack into the prepared loaf pan, and fold the ends in. Butter an additional bit of foil to cover the top. cook for 1 and 1/4 hours. Remove top foil, and carefylly unfold the side foil extensions. Let it rest for a few minutes, then lift out by the foil ears, and set on serving plate. Cut into slices with a sharp, preferably serrated knife. Serve hot with onion or mushroom gravy. when the leftovers are cold, it can be sliced more easily, and more thinly.

This is not the gravy we had, as I had only one onion on hand at home, and no wish to go shopping. It is miserably cold here, and there was snow, which is definitely not what I would have ordered, if asked. Apparently I'm still jet-lagged, and this recipe is persistently jumbled and disorderly. But it is also nice, and quantities are adjustable and ad hoc. I will attempt a revision when I get my head screwed on the right way again:

Mushroom Shallot Gravy

Soak mixed dried wild mushrooms in madeira for an hour or two. Chop some shallots and a bit of red onion, and sweat them in a small, heavy pan in a little olive oil. Slice some cremini or ordinary fresh mushrooms, and chop the soaked mushrooms after wringing them out. Add the mushrooms, and saute until almost done. A little bit of thyme and a small sprig of fresh rosemary if available. Sprinkle the lot with a handfull of flour, and cook until the flour disappears and gets a little crusty. Add reserved soaking liquid, and some good quality vegetable stock (or any stock you like), and cook, stirring in the beginning, over a medium low heat until thickened to desired consistency and the flavors have blended.

February 21, 2007

Instead of beginning with the topic, and veering off sideways, I begin this post, up front, with the digression. I feel it coming on, and I'm pretty sure it is both TOO BIG and unavoidable. The digression topic for today is unipurpose equipment in general, and asparagus peelers in particular. If you can't bear it, that is more than understandable, and you can skip this part and head on down to the recipe, which is adapted from Paula Wolfert's The Cooking of Southwest France.

Believe it or not,I actually have a position in principle on this issue (pompous enough?) which is: It is most practical, aesthetically pleasing, and soundest practice to have as little kitchen equipment as possible, of the best possible quality. In addition to leaving you with more money to spend on such useful items as actual food, it leaves you more room to cook, and a prettier kitchen.

I am so far from living this ideal that I am totally unable to publicly face up to the state of things, in this respect, in my own kitchen. We'll skip that. Still, I have sometimes managed to avoid the purchase of completely unipurpose items. I would argue that even my dopey chinois and copper jam pot have multiple functions and see a lot of use.

A recent visit to the Traveler's Lunchbox revealed how resistence to the purchase of expensive specialty cookware, combined with a creative imagination, can lead to clever innovations. Check it out. It is probably not a coincidence that the adapted recipe in Melissa's post is a Paula Wolfert item. I just love to read PW's stuff, as you may have noticed. She is such an intensive researcher, and her committment to authenticity allows us to sample very foreign, otherwise inaccessible dishes in what is in most cases, probably as close to exact reproduction as imaginable.

And therein lies the conflicting force. As a home cook, I don't have a personal committment to serving exact reproductions of the foods of other cultures, per se. But I want to know about them, and I want to try the real thing, and know what its supposed to taste and look and smell and feel like, before I mess with it for my own purposes. It's just so much fun, and PW is a principal aider-and-abeter. Fact is, sometimes, to get it right, you do need some special equipment. Too bad I don't have access to a well-funded test kitchen, or the funds to travel on whim, but that's life. I do realize that I am lucky to have a medium sized, semi-acceptible apartment kitchen, and, indeed, a roof over my head . Ack, am I entirely unable to shut up? Well, yes.

In any event, Ms. Wolfert has addressed the asparagus peeler issue, in another section of TCOSWF, persuasively arguing in favor of peeling asparagus, rather than wasting some, as happens when we just snap off several inches of the tougher bottom bits. She includes a recipe using the peelings (!)- Asparagus with Asparagus Sauce. To top it off, she even provides instructions on how to make your own asparagus peeler from a thin bladed knife and a 15" length of 16 gauge wire- in case you don't want to spend for a commercial one. Whew. As we used to say in days gone by, she blows my mind.

The thing is, as I understand it , that a regular vegetable peeler (to date my solution), is non-ideal, because due to the tapering of the asparagus spears, you need to remove more from the bottom than the top. Lucky for me, I have a bureau drawer full of saved ribbon and pretty papers and advance purchase gifts. From it I unearthed an as-new box with a present from long ago, saved in case of an unlikely re-gifting opportunity. That would be my asparagus peeler, which I thought was a silly space waster when I got it. It's in the kitchen now...and I think I was maybe wrong. Especially since it was, you know, free. I'm still not sure I'd buy one.

Finally, in what can only be described as a digression from a digression, I feel compelled to mention that there is a multi-purpose, high quality item, within reach theoretically, that I cannot bring myself to buy, though I am convinced of its usefulness and value. That would be a heavy copper saute pan. I've craved one for years, but can't convince myself that it would be okay. Just too much money for a pan. Sigh.

I do believe that Paula Wolfert was right in suggesting that this dish be served as a separate course, so that the intense flavor can be fully appreciated. I think she had a starter in mind, but personally, I was quite happy to make a supper of an indecently large portion, with some toasted homemade bread alongside. I'm drinking some really nice Belgian beer here-to me, wine tastes kind of weird with asparagus.

Obviously, this is not local (February in Pennsylvania) asparagus, but it was on sale, and looked very fresh and pretty. It called my name, and jumped into the shopping cart. I couldn't resist . I have just paid my deposit for next summer's CSA farmbox, so I consider this a celebration of the season to come. Or kind of a little magical ceremony to help the temperature rise, and melt the ice a bit.

So this is a very early, early spring item, made easier by the fact that dried, rather than fresh morels are preferred, the dried being even more intensely flavored. Yeah, they are expensive, but you don't need that many. They are certainly cheaper than the tinned truffles I tried this past weekend, and a damn sight more flavorful. You need, to serve 4 with something else or 2 for supper:

Soak the morels in the milky water for about 30 min.-until soft. saving the liquid, remove and rinse the morels. Pour the liquid through a coffee filter , and recombine with the morels. Simmer in a small pan until liquid is absorbed. Add butter, 1/4 cup water, lemon juice, salt and pepper and simmer aout 5 more minutes, until the liquid is almost all absorbed, and the morels are tender. Add half the cream and the stock, return to simmer, and remove from heat. Set aside. Best to wait at least a half hour here, as much of the sauce will be reabsorbed, to good effect.

Wash, trim and peel the asparagus. Cook in a skillet of boiling salted water, flat out, until just tender. Drain, and blot dry with paper towels. Put in serving dish, covered. Add the rest of the cream and the port to the morels, reheat to just simmer, correct seasoning, pour over asparagus, and serve. It's gorgeous. Please disregard the fact that the port makes it a funny color. It just doesn't matter. It is even yummy if you make it with no salt whatsoever for someone with a special diet. Just use a bit more lemon juice and pepper.

September 15, 2006

My friend Ilene served me some seviche for supper one night, and it just hit the spot. We had it with salad and grilled bread dunked in some fancy special olive oil. It was really tasty, and had been made, according to a recipe in the big yellow Gourmet Cookbook, but with fresh fish filets, instead of the usual (to me) shellfish. Flavorful and satisfying, but not heavy, it was just exactly the amount of supper I wanted then, and often like to have.

Since then, I've been making some off the cuff non-traditional versions, using what ever bits of fish and shell fish happen to be around and need to be used up right away. In order to make a traditional seviche, where the fish is raw, and is cooked only by the acidity of the citrus in which it marinates, you've got to use absolutely fresh, first quality fish and shellfish, from a trusted supplier, to be confident that you won't poison yourself.

I've taken a hint from the Gourmet recipe, and flash cook the fish I use-a minute in boiling water cooks a filet, shrimp, or scallops through-and then hit it with cold water and dry it off before marinating. This allows me to use frozen shrimps and scallops, and fish I bought yesterday that still smells nice. I've been doing this fairly often, and it's pretty good-though I'm sure it doesn't compare to the real thing.

For a marinade, I generally use lime juice, cilantro, a bit of fresh hot pepper, chopped red onion, chopped sweet peppers, smoked spanish paprika, and salt and pepper. Since I get home from work pretty early (a little after 3 o'clock), I can put this in the fridge, and it will be all nice and marinated by supper. Good for eating on the porch on a hot Indian-summer day. All you need is a bowl, fork, and glass of something-and maybe a piece of bread, and a book.

May 23, 2006

I'm playing with my food again. It's the height of asparagus season, it's cheap everywhere, and gorgeous. There is really nothing to beat steamed or roasted asparagus, seasoned with one herb and sea salt-maybe occasionally dipped into a runny egg yolk for extra pizazz. No trouble, right? That's what I imagine having every night when I dream of asparagus season in the dead of winter.

Now that I've been doing that for a few weeks, and have 2 lbs of asparagus in the house, I'm going off on tangents. Departing from my program of completely simple pleasures, I decided to make some different asparagus stuff. Hence: an asparagus salad with pistachios and an asparagus soup with parmesan custards from the Gourmet Cookbook. For two separate suppers, and for Asparagus Aspirations, a collection of asparagus recipes at Seriously Good.

The salad is not an original-it is a variant of a Judy Rodgers/ Zuni Cafe Salad..but it works particularly well-for preparation purposes -with the soup. Both require some good Parmegiana Reggiano, and I can use the entire asparagus, including the woody bits, unpeeled, if I make both.This is how it works. The salad requires raw asparagus-the equivalent of 2 or 3 stalks per person for a main dish supper or lunch.

The best part to use for this is the top part of the stalk-sans tip-it is the sweetest raw. Sooo, we cut a few of those and set them aside for our salad, snag a few pretty tips for a soup garnish, and use everything else, including all but the very ends of the dubious woodier parts for the soup.

Of course the labor-saving element (no peeling) only has value if you believe as I do, that no amount of prep will make it possible to avoid putting the asparagus soup through a fine sieve or foodmill before you eat it. Once you accept this, you might as well get all the flavor you can from the asparagus before you remove all the rubbish at the end. The soup is not a project for a hungry person only just home from work.

It can, however, be done in shifts, with the pre-custardized soup made ahead and refrigerated, or even frozen. The custards, though a little chef-y, are really delicious with the soup- and very little trouble if you've made your soup ahead. I should think they'd be an impressive beginning to a dinner party, as long as you didn't have much other stuff needing attention at the last minute. Personally, I enjoyed this soup for a weeknight supper shared with one buddy, followed by a couple of slabs of last-night's rosemary-potato pizza and pears. (The Bartletts have been delectible.)

So, I suggest making the soup base on a free day, and then chilling it. This is what I did:

Cut off very end of woody part of aspargus and discard. Take 8 fat stalks, and cut off tips and bottom 3 inches. Reserve tips for soup garnish, and center portions separately for the salad. Refrigerate center portions in baggie. Put tips in a little bowl, and pour boiling water over. Let sit until cool. Drain and halve tips, refrigerate. All parts not reserved go in the soup.

In a heavy pot, melt butter. Slice the shallots thinly, then sweat them in the butter. when soft, but not browned, add the broth and the remaining asparagus, cut in one inch lengths. Bring to a boil, then simmer until the aspargus is very soft. Blend with immersion blender, or very carefully, in regular blender. (It's hot!) Put through fine sieve, correct seasoning, and refrigerate or freeze until ready to serve.

Quantities are not given, as this is adaptable in many directions. The general idea is this:
Make dressing: Put the shallot in a small bowl and add a pinch of salt. Add olive oil. Whisk in vinegar to taste.
Make salad: Put the greens on a cold plate or in a cold, shallow bowl. Add asparagus and pistachios, plus dressing. Toss gently. Top with parm curls and freshly ground pepper. Serve with good bread.

Combine cheese, cream and milk in a small heavy pan. Bring to a boil, remove from heat, cover, and rest 30 minutes. Meanwhile, preheat oven to 350F, and butter ramekins holding a total of 12 oz. Set ramekins in a roasting pan. Strain cream mixture through a fine sieve or chinois. Press on cheese solids a bit. Reserve strained cream. In a 4 cup pyrex pitcher or the like, whisk eggs, yolks, salt and pepper. Still whisking, add cream in a slow stream. Whisk smooth, and pour into ramekins. Pour boiling water into roasting pan, until it is 1/2 way up the ramekins.Bake until set completely- about 45 minutes. Cool ramekins on a rack for (only) 5 minutes. Unmold each into a soup bowl.

Two of my custards were sloppy looking, but they were all delicious. Admittedly this soup is a fussy sort of business-more fiddly than I generally care for. But the result is seriously delicious. The smooth richness and nutty flavor of the custard is just wonderful with the velvety asparagus soup-it's dreamy food. I think it was well worth it, and I'll do it again. Naturally it's nice if your custards are slickly perfect, but if they aren't, it is a minor matter, compared to the yumminess.

Asparagus Soup Part III, Finish
Add 1/2 cup of heavy cream to asparagus soup. Heat, adjust seasoning, and pour around the custards in the soup bowls. Garnish with the reserved tips and/or parm curls, if you like. Serve it up.

Illustration: "Of Spearage or Asparagus" from Gerard's Herbal -from a 1964 reprint of this 1636 classic, which I found in a used bookstore. The illustrations and the plant descriptions are a wonderful combination of fact and fantasy. I think the reason it was so inexpensive was the extensive annotations by someone who was seriously using this as a reference work to practice herbal medicine techniques. Fortunately, the pictures were left alone. The annotations are pretty amusing, but, on reflection, a little scary. I've been hoping they did not lead to the demise of the last owner. Perhaps the book was part of an estate sale?

May 10, 2006

I am so completely in the habit of making frittatas, or Spanish-style tortillas, that it is difficult to remember a time when I did not know how to make them. The wonderful features of the egg (so delicious, so complete, each comes in its own pretty package-they can be your supper, or your sauce, a meringue...oh, you know) are legion In this format they are really all that. A showcase for leftover veggies, dinner with a salad and bread, a sandwich filling, cut up for tapas, topping bruscetta, packed for lunch at work or a picnic.. No doubt you know all about all these excellent uses of this repetoire reliable.

In fact, to me it is a part of the charm of the frittata/tortilla, that you will find them nearly everywhere, in one form or another. While some are perfect, and others are not, it is unusual to be offered one which is entirely awful. This is an elemental sort of cooking, requiring but a pan and a fire. If I am stuck eating in an place I fear is bad in a pretentious sort-of-way, I generally order a frittata, tortilla, or omelet, and am a lot less likely to be disappointed than with an elaborate choice. And, conversely, a really good place generally serves a really good omelet (and roast chicken and creme brulee, or the local equivalent thereof).

My elderly mother has an apartment in an assisted living residence where the cooking is mostly sadly uninspired. They do make good real soups daily, and serve them properly hot, which is commendable. They also make an exceptionally nice mushroom omelet/frittata thing to order, which you can choose at any lunch or dinner, if you don't like the looks of the main course offerings. This has saved the day on any number of occasions of dreaded veal cutlet or pale, flaccid cacciatore.

Like any other simple dish, a frittata or tortilla is glorified by excellent ingredients- the freshest free range eggs, and bright fresh herbs, gorgeous seasonal local vegs., et al. Unlike some of the others, however, it is just fine made with ordinary ingredients too. While it is true that there is a slight knack to be acquired-whether one uses the broiler or pan flipping method, it does not take long to become an expert, and feel the satisfaction of a simple job well done, when you slide the finished product onto a plate.

I made this one , "inspired" by a dubious package of prewashed spinach-mixed with arugula (and called "spicy spinach salad.") It was the only spinach at the Iggle when I last shopped which did not look completely past it, and I craved some spinach. I am also an arugula fan. ( I can hardly wait until June 1, when my CSA farmbox starts up again.) I though that the combination could be nice with my little bundle of multicolored fingerlings, a pinch of smoked spanish paprika, and some fresh cilantro and parsley.

First I poured a bit of boiling water over a handful of spinach/arugula mixture, ran it under some cold water, wrung it out, and chopped it up. I beat four eggs with some salt and pepper and added the paprika. I peeled and sliced my boiled fingerlings, which were very petite and cute, chopped the herbs-adding half of them to the eggs, and cut two scallions into slivers.

I preheated the broiler, and warmed the potatoes slowly in my 8" cast iron skillet in a generous amount of olive oil. When they were warm I added the eggs and all the rest. I cooked the eggs, lifting the solidifying edges to let the still liquid egg run underneath, into the warm oil. When it was all done but the top-I set it under the broiler to finish. Thanks to the perhaps excessive amounts of olive oil, it slid easily onto a plate.

I had my frittata for supper, with salad and some really good semolina bread from my third batch. (Did I mention I'm head over heels for this bread? Uh...yeah.) That used up about half the fritatta. The rest came to work with me the next day with some more slices of that bread, and made a lunchtime sandwich, assembled just before eating.

I sure wish I had some pretty, fresh, green and blue, local, free-range eggs.

May 07, 2006

I would really prefer not to bake bread at all. I love to bake bread. Perhaps there is a conflict here? This is the thing. Baking really good breads of the kind I prefer for everyday use is difficult, and better done by persons of skill and practice, who have bread ovens to work with. I would happily buy all my bread if I could get the sort of thing I like near my home, without too much trouble. I have already gone on at some length about how much trouble that is.

It is a nonetheless a great pleasure to make breads of special kinds on occasion, and I always enjoy doing that, given enough time. Yeast, flour, salt-handling these elemental ingredients is a time honored therapeutic exercise. The smell of bread baking competes with the smell of roasting meat or poultry for most intoxicating home aroma. What's not to like?

I resist developing the need for home baked bread on a regular basis, because it is a demanding practice, and uses a lot of time which could be spent on other things-including other cooking. And I do have a full time job, which can also interfere with cooking, reading, traveling, and so on. However, I think I may be developing a yen for this loaf that's a little scary.

After greedily consuming (over 2 weeks, but still), my first two round Sicilian-style breads, I just had to make a semolina batard (fatter, shorter baguette) or filone (same, with pointy ends). For one thing, I wanted to see how the flavor would be with less yeast and a longer rise. For another, I thought that this sort of bread would be perfect for bruscetta-except that my round bread slices were inappropriate shapes. Most importantly, however, my last loaf was gone, and, hard though it may be to believe, I really hadn't had my fill of semolina bread when that happened. This is, no doubt, related to the impulse which sometimes causes me to eat the same thing for dinner several days in a row. Or longer.

Hence, too, this change about of the recipe. The only difference in ingredients was the addition of a teaspoon of malt, and reducing the total yeast to 1 tsp. However, I started the bread night before baking, with a little amateur biga. This was nice and bubbly and ripe the next morning, when I combined it with the remaining ingredients. I proceeded as before, except I shaped the dough into a batard, rather than a round, and slit it before baking. (Just in case anyone wants to try this version, I will add the complete recipe-as revised-at this post's end. It occurs to me that reading these directions, unless actually in the mood to make this bread, could be unspeakably boring.)

Despite the decrease in the yeast, the bread rose amazingly fast again, and blew up quite a bit in an hour on both risings. Baked, it turned out to be noticeably bigger than either of the others. Who knew? Though I actually have a rectangular reed banneton, I didn't use it, because I thought it would be too big. This bread is plenty big enough to have filled it, however. Perhaps I will use it next time, as it could be cute with the beehive-y pattern the basket reeds create.

No huge surprise-this bread tastes better than the others. In fact I would say, immodestly, that it is sensationally good. Oh, and the crust is snappy as hell-I really love it, and I'm afraid I'm going to be making it a lot, in the absence of some sort of intervention. Help!

I think I'll see if I can find me some unhulled sesame seeds for next time. I should probably note here that I am inordinately fond of sesame seeds-if you don't care for them, you might not love the bread as much as I do-they are an important part of the flavor.

I have written before of my fondness for bruschetta as a showcase for bread, as well as a delivery system for other goodies. Bruschetta begins with the grilling of bread slices, which are then generally rubbed with a slice of cut garlic. Good bread, of a sturdy nature and flavor is a prerequisite. A drizzle of very nice olive oil is usually applied next. Almost any tasty topping you can imagine is delightful.

This is one kind of bruschetta I made with this loaf:

Rapini and White Bean Spread Bruschetta: This one makes a light meal unto itself. I wouldn't serve it as an appetizer-it is more of a lunch.

Mash room temperature beans with salt, pepper and a dot of the vinegar. Parboil rapini, drain, chop fairly finely, then saute with most of the olive oil, the garlic, and the red pepper flakes. Spread beans on the toasts. Divide rapini among the four toasts. Drizzle with remaining olive oil, and top with a pinch of salt and a grinding of black pepper. You can best eat these with a knife and fork. I am planing on some of Sam's Chicken Liver Spread, to finish off this loaf.

Here endeth this post, except for:

Addendum: Details, Revised Semolina Bread Recipe

Biga

The night before you bake mix:
1/2 cup semolina flour(finest, silkiest that you can find-or "gold durum" flour, if available. If it seems coarse, grind it up a bit in your blender. It should be gold, not white or gray)
1/2 cup King Arthur's
Unbleached All Purpose Flour*
1/2 cup water
1/2 tsp instant (not quick rising) dry yeast
Cover and let sit over night.

Put semolina flour and 1 cup of the AP flour in bowl of stand mixer. Add oil and water to biga and pour biga into mixer bowl. Using paddle attachment, combine until just mixed. Cover bowl and let stand 15 minutes. (important-do not omit this break!) Add malt, additional yeast, and salt. With the dough hook, knead about 5 minutes. The dough should be smooth and elastic, but slightly sticky. If it is too wet, add more of the flour. It should clean the sides and bottom of the bowl as it whips around.

Place dough in lightly oiled bowl. If it is very sticky to handle, flour your hands. Cover and let rise until doubled. This may not take more than an hour. Shape into desired form- round or long. If you are free form shaping, place the loaf on a sheet of parchment on a bread peel, or on the bottom of a turned-over sheet pan. Handle lightly where possible, to avoid bursting all the lovely air bubbles. Using a pastry brush, paint the top of your bread sparingly with water. Sprinkle generously with the seeds, pressing them in a bit . Cover loosely and let rise about 1 hour more.

Meanwhile preheat your oven very high. If you have an ordinary stove, crank it up as high as it will go.
It is best to have an oven stone or tiles heating up in there. If you don't have either, you will need to bake the bread on your sheet pan.

When the bread is ready to go- slide it (with parchment) onto the baking stone and close the oven door. Get 4 ice cubes, open the oven, and toss them in, so there is a burst of steam-closing the door right away. Turn oven down to 425F, and bake 15 minutes. Open door, and slide parchment out from bread. Turn bread 180 degrees. continue to bake until deeply gold, and sounding hollow when rapped on the bottom. This took me a total of 50 minutes altogether for the batard shape.It will vary with your chosen shape, and of course, your oven.

*If you do not use KA Unbleached all-purpose flour, you should substitute a mix of 50% ordinary all-purpose, and 50% bread flour for it. Shaping instructions are not included, as that is a Whole Big Thing.
Lots of books have pretty good picture-instructions on this. And then you practice. If you haven't the time for that,but would like to make some bread Right Now, I think a free form ball would bake up very nicely.

I'm sure you could make this bread hand kneading it too, but I haven't tried that, so I don't feel up to giving directions. It is a bit of a sticky dough, but not so sticky that hand kneading is out of the question.